


The Dispatch's Day Out

by fms_fangirl



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Friendship, M/M, Other, Workplace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-12 20:12:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5679253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fms_fangirl/pseuds/fms_fangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morale is low in the London Dispatch and Management takes steps to remedy the situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dispatch's Day Out

It had finally happened. After years of veiled warnings and vague threats, after many strongly-worded reprimands and directives, Senior Management had done their worst; carried out the plan of last resort.

Grell tapped her foot impatiently and consulted her watch again. She glared balefully at the stiff envelope in her hand. Even the decisive black handwriting was heavy with foreboding. Another five minutes and she was taking matters into her own hands. They couldn’t possible do worse than _this_ , she thought, holding the envelope between her thumb and forefinger as if it might burn her. Another ten minutes, she fumed, and she was tossing it into the river and to the devil with the consequences.

Finally, she heard approaching footsteps and turned to see Ronald shambling sleepily towards her.

“Senpai?” he mumbled, rubbing his face. “They’ve put me with you?”

“So it would seem.”

“But why? Why am I even here? I’m not the one who-”

“Oh be quiet!” she snapped. “You heard what the Branch Manager said, so stop acting as if this is all my fault.”

“But why did it have to start so early?” he complained.

She poked her finger hard into his chest. “Stop your whining or I’ll pick you up by your hair and drop you into the river. I don’t want to be here any more than you do. This should have been my day off. I have far better things to do than stand about on Westminster Bridge.”

“Where are the others?” Ronald grumbled. “If I could make it here this time of the morning, what’s their excuse for being late?”

“Our instructions were to meet at 8:45,” said a voice behind them. “If you consult your watch, you will see it is 8:44. I am not late.”

“Ugh!” Ronald muttered. “This is going to be awful.”

“I am no more pleased than you are by this turn of events,” William replied with a scowl at Grell, “but we have no choice.”

“Stop it, both of you!” she cried. “How many times do I have to tell you it is not my fault?”

The great clock towering over the Houses of Parliament struck the three-quarter hour. William glowered about as the notes died away. “It would seem that our fourth is late.”

“Perhaps we should open the envelope,” she suggested. “There’s no point in standing about, doing nothing.”

“Sooner we get started, sooner we can leave,” Ronald pointed out.

“Certainly not!” William thundered, attempting to snatch the envelope from Grell’s hand. “Our instructions were clear. We are not to open the envelope until everyone is assembled. Give it to me,” he ordered. “You can’t be trusted to behave yourself.”

“I will not!” she exclaimed, backing away from him. “The Branch Manager gave it to _me_. Clearly he wanted me to be in charge.”

William adjusted his glasses and frowned. “Honestly Grell! If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place. I insist that you give it to me.”

“Oh no!” she shouted, leaping onto a pillar of the bridge and grasping a lamp post. She swung precariously over the edge, dangling the envelope over the water. “And if you try to take it, I’ll drop it into the river.”

“And I shall toss you in after it!” William yelled.

They were interrupted by a loud burst of laughter. “This is going to be even more entertaining than I hoped.”

“Darling!” Grell jumped down to fling her arms around Undertaker. “Please tell me you are working with us today.”

“How did you get roped into this?” Ronald asked.

“Something about overdue library books,” he answered with a grin.

“Now we are all _finally_ here,” William said, “let’s open the envelope.”

“Of course, dear,” Grell said sweetly. “I thought you’d never ask.”

While Undertaker leaned against the railing, she broke the imposing seal and extracted several sheets of paper.

The first read:

_Congratulations! In choosing Office Adventures for this exciting event you have already shown yourself to be a winner!_

_We, at Office Adventures, pride ourselves in providing optimum experience at competitive prices._

_Please complete the attached survey to qualify for discounts on other such exhilarating workshops as:_

_Worktime is Fun Time!_

_Taking the U out of Failure!_

_Board Room or Bored Room? It’s Up to You!_

They stared at each other gloomily. “May I throw this one in the river?” Grell asked.

William crumpled it up and stuffed it in his pocket and began to read the second page aloud.

_Greetings, members of the London Dispatch,_

_Recent events have made it clear that Office morale is at an all-time low._

“It wasn’t my fault!” Grell interjected. “If anyone is to blame, it’s William.”

He silenced her with a glare and continued.

_We are very excited to announce, in conjunction with Office Adventures, the First London Dispatch Office Bonding and Team-Building Exercises Day._

_You have been divided into teams. Each team will be given a series of clues to lead to a final destination. The first team to reach their destination will win a prize! But remember, there are no winners or losers today._

Ronald snorted with disgust.

_Enjoy this day! Take advantage of this special opportunity to grow closer to your co-workers!_

“Well William,” Grell purred. “Shall we? It’s practically an order.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!”

_Afterwards, please assemble at the Dispatch office for more fun and games. And don’t forget to enter the raffle for prizes such as:_

_A pencil sharpener_

_A deluxe stapler_

_An Office Adventures backpack and matching coffee mug_

_And others, too numerous to mention_

_Attendance is compulsory. Failure to do so will result in demotion._

“I could use a new stapler,” William said.

It must have been the sun, but Grell was sure she saw a gleam of amusement in his eyes. Undertaker was shaking with silent laughter. She began to giggle and gave William a friendly shove. “Go on! Admit it. You think this is as absurd as the rest of us do.”

“It is very generous of Senior Management and the Council to be going to all this trouble on our behalf. And I think an Office Adventures backpack is just what your ensemble is lacking,” he added.

“Hey Boss!” Ronald hooted. “Do you think I might have a chance of winning a hole-punch?”

“Now Ronald,” he said with mock gravity, “who do you think we are? The East India Company? Perhaps, if you are very lucky, you might win a staple remover.”

“Or a new eraser,” Grell suggested. “Did you ever have to take part in something like this when you were collecting?” she asked Undertaker.

“Once. Senior Management brought in some fellow. I think he was called a motivational speaker. Then we all had to do trust exercises.”

“And how did that turn out?”

“How do you think I got these scars?”

She was sure he was teasing her, but everyone’s gloom had lightened. “I suppose we had better read the rest of these instructions.”

A closely written page followed: teams could not split up; travel via portal was forbidden; each team had been supplied with a stamp – its use would become apparent as they completed the exercise; teams were being observed – failure to comply with all rules would result in elimination; their first clue was in the enclosed smaller envelope.

“Wonderful,” Ronald grumbled. “Some bird from Management following us around all day.”

“Then we should give him something worth watching,” Undertaker said, slipping his arm around Grell’s waist and giving her a gentle squeeze.

She lolled her head against his shoulder. “Oh darling! I’m so glad you’re on our team. We’re going to have so much fun.” She couldn’t resist a glance at William.

“Honestly! Stop making an exhibition of yourselves. We have a task to complete. Grell, read the first clue.”

She opened the smaller envelope.

_Why are you here?_

_Take her up tenderly,_  
_Lift her with care;_  
_Fashion'd so slenderly,_  
_Young, and so fair!_

They stared at one another. Undertaker tapped his teeth with one of his long nails; William’s brow furrowed in puzzlement and Ronald rubbed the back of his neck in confusion.

Grell impatiently pushed a lock of her hair, blown by the breeze off the river, back from her face. “Well, this is rather discouraging. We can’t be stumped already. Why are we here?”

Ronald and William both fixed their eyes upon her.

“For the last time, it wasn’t my fault!”

XXXXXXXXXX

“Sutcliff, you bastard! You did it again!”

“What did you just call me?” Grell screeched, running into the break room. “How dare you?”

The younger agent, confronted by an enraged Grell, took several steps back and managed to reply shakily, “You didn’t make a fresh pot of coffee. You took the last cup. That’s the third time this week.”

“For your information,” she shouted, “I made a fresh pot when I came in four hours ago. The night shift had left the pot empty.” She poked him hard in the chest.

He attempted to stand his ground. “Doesn’t matter,” he insisted. “You emptied the pot just now and didn’t start a new one.” He was beginning to shake as Grell bared her teeth at him.

William appeared in the doorway. “What on earth is all the fuss about?”

“It’s Sutcliff, sir!” he squeaked. “He – she – Grell didn’t make a new pot of coffee. It’s not the first time either.”

William sighed and adjusted his glasses. “Grell, you know the rules. Whoever empties the pot must make a new one.”

She sniffed and tossed her head. With a sweet smile, she dumped the coffee grounds out, splattering them all over the other agent’s shoes as she narrowly missed the waste bin.

“I’m so sorry,” she crooned. Water sloshed from the pot, soaking his shirtfront. “How careless of me,” she grinned.

“Honestly Grell!” William exclaimed as the young man turned on his heel and stalked from the break room. “Was that necessary?”

“You heard what he called me. What a way to speak of a lady!”

He rolled his eyes and left.

Sometimes, she was sure, these days, she could see a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. It was odd, she thought, reaching for the last can of coffee in the supply cupboard. It wasn’t as if she had woken up one morning and decided she was no longer in love with William. The realization had come gradually; the hurt and confusion – and anger that she had felt, knowing he could never return her feelings had faded. She would admit to an occasional pang, a moment of regret that things could have been different, but the cold rage that could be dispelled only by the wanton shedding of blood was gone.

She spooned the coffee into the filter basket, adding an extra scoop since everyone seemed to be out of sorts that morning, started the machine and returned to her office. Heavens, but she was tired! Three days of reaping in the endless spring drizzle of London had left her feeling damp and depressed.

Her eyes fell on a tiny spray of white violets that had been waiting on her desk that morning and she smiled. There had been no note, but she suspected who had sent them. He must have enjoyed being stuffed into a pot of salt. She giggled at the memory of that and later encounters and shivered at the thought of those extraordinary eyes and beautiful scarred face. And she remembered a recent evening when she had been collecting in the pouring rain and he had mysteriously appeared behind her to hold an umbrella over her head.

Had they become friends? Grell had no idea how else to describe it - just felt as if she had found a kindred spirit, another who didn’t quite fit in with their kind. He teased her and flirted with her during her occasional visits to his shop, but he treated her with kindness and courtesy and made her feel delightfully feminine.

She shoved away her barely touched coffee. Much more and she would float down the hallway and, she thought with a huge yawn, it wasn’t helping a bit.

XXXXXXXXXX

“‘Fashion'd so slenderly. Young, and so fair!’ They’re obviously talking about me,” Grell giggled, tossing her hair back. “I am the sort who inspires poetry.”

“Be serious for a moment,” William commanded. “Why are we here?”

“Because Management made us go on this stupid thing,” Ronald grumbled.

Undertaker took the paper and studied it for a moment. “I think you’re taking the question too literally. _Why_ are you here?”

“In London?”

“I think, what Undertaker is suggesting,” William said, “is why are we here in this form?”

They fell silent and stared at each other awkwardly. Ronald’s grin faded; William looked uneasy and Grell began to twine a lock of her hair around her fingers.

“Because we chose to end our human lives,” she said quietly.

A gust of wind off the river threatened to blow his hat away. Clamping it onto his head, Undertaker replied, “I believe that is what they are really asking.”

“How gloomy!” she complained. “Trust Management to come up with some way to suck the fun out of everything.”

“I’ll say,” Ronald agreed. “That’s a right downer.”

William glared at them both. “Assuming that our conjecture is correct-”

“You shouldn’t assume, William,” she interrupted. “What did you say at the last staff meeting? When you assume...”

“You make an ass out of you and me,” Ronald finished. They burst out laughing.

“That’s enough! Both of you!”

“Sorry William,” they chorused, still snorting with laughter.

“It’s a fragment of poetry,” Undertaker said.

“We’re doomed,” Ronald said. “The only poem I know goes:

Catriona, a pretty young lass  
Had a truly magnificent ass.  
Not rounded and pink  
As you possibly think  
It was grey, had long ears, and ate grass.”

“That’s brilliant, Ronnie,” Grell giggled. “Have you ever heard the one that starts ‘An elderly man called Keith mislaid his set of false teeth...’” She clamped her hand over her mouth and said in a loud whisper, “We had better stop. William’s dying to produce his Scythe and whack us both.”

“I’ll do far worse than that when we get back if you two don’t stop behaving like fools. Will you take this seriously? Honestly!”

“I think you’re missing the point of the entire exercise, William. Upper Management is concerned about office morale. You must be able to laugh or there is no reason to exist.”

Grell could tell that William didn’t quite dare fix Undertaker with his death glare. She snatched the sheet back from him and read it closely.

“Come on Senpai, you’ve got loads of poetry books on your shelf.”

“That’s true. If anyone could identify this romantic drivel, it should be you.”

“Actually, I think I do recognize it. It’s a poem about a fallen woman who throws herself from a bridge. It’s called The Bridge of Sighs.” She turned away from them to gaze at the Thames, flowing under where they stood.

“Loop up her tresses  
Escaped from the comb,  
Her fair auburn tresses...”

Undertaker whispered the words to her. “You are very familiar with this poem, aren’t you?” he asked, laying his hand over hers that gripped the railing.

“It wasn’t quite like that,” she said quietly. “Nobody would have called me a fallen woman and there was no bridge involved.”

“‘Perishing gloomily,  
Spurr'd by contumely,  
Cold inhumanity,  
Burning insanity,  
Into her rest.’

“That poem speaks to you.”

She nodded and swiped her hand impatiently across her face, before turning to the others. “She threw herself from Waterloo Bridge. I think that must be our first destination.”

“You sure? I don’t want to be traipsing all over London on some wild goose chase,” Ronald grumbled.

“Unless you have a better suggestion, Knox, I think Grell is correct. Good job.”

William’s rare approval flooded her with warmth. “Come on, dear,” she said, looping her arm through Undertaker’s. “It’s only a short walk and a lovely day for it.”

“And a lovelier companion couldn’t be hoped for,” he grinned as William rolled his eyes.

Turning their backs on the Houses of Parliament, they set off north along the Victoria Embankment. William cast a wary eye over them. “Please behave. Don’t do anything to bring attention to us.”

“Don’t be such an old maid,” Grell laughed. “If Management had been that concerned, they wouldn’t have the entire Dispatch haring all about London in broad daylight. Humans usually only see what they expect.”

“And it has been my experience,” her companion chuckled, “that as soon as they catch sight of me, they tend to look the other way. No one wants to see an undertaker.”

His words were soon confirmed. A few passers-by glanced their way, but most eyes slid over the odd foursome as they traveled past Whitehall and its gardens.

“Who’s that old bird?” Ronald asked, gesturing at a statue.

Undertaker paused to study it for a moment. “William Tyndale. He made the first translation of the Bible into English - a martyr of the Reformation. Not a bad likeness,” he added. “I was sent to collect his soul.”

William adjusted his glasses. “Perhaps, Ronald, you should consider this day as an opportunity to improve yourself. A chance to learn more about poetry than filthy limericks and wallow in ignorance.”

Ronald looked abashed and genuinely hurt.

“William!” Grell protested. “That was unkind and uncalled for.” She hurried to his side. “You know Ronald received no education in his human life,” she muttered. “He tries to hide it, but he’s quite sensitive about it.”

He nodded and followed Ronald to the very edge of the embankment, where he was staring gloomily into the river. She watched him speak quietly and gently squeeze his shoulder and smiled as the younger man’s face cleared.

“He worships William,” she said to Undertaker. “I don’t think William understands how much because he conceals everything behind that grin.”

“I think this day may be more successful than Upper Management had hoped,” he replied. “At least for this team.”

They walked briskly for a few more minutes until they arrived at the iron stairway that led to the footpath across the bridge.

“Now what?” Ronald gazed across the expanse of the bridge. “What should we be looking for do you think?”

“I would assume-” William caught himself quickly, “I would imagine that we should be looking for another envelope. Something that would tell us we were at the right place and give us our next clue.”

“You have the sharpest eyes of us all, Ronnie,” Grell said. “It’s true,” she told Undertaker. “Even without his glasses, he can spot a farthing on the floor of a dark room. He was a mudlark. Spent his childhood scavenging for coins and scraps in the mud of the Thames during low tide.”

“Maybe so,” he replied, “but I think you are all overlooking the obvious.” He pointed to a red poster, pasted onto the stone pediment that supported a lamppost, bearing white letters that read “Why are you here?”

“Clever!” she admired. “An envelope could blow away or be picked up by someone else.”

They approached the poster. It was bare except for the words and a small white circle near the bottom.

“Grell, you have the stamp,” William said. “Try to stamp that circle and see what happens.”

She pulled it from her pocket and leaned against the balustrade, pressing the small brass stamp into the circle. The date and time appeared in glowing letters for an instant and the poster faded away. A white envelope fluttered down to her feet. She picked it up with a whoop of triumph. “This must be the next clue.”

William took it from her and opened it. An indescribable expression crossed his face; Grell was sure he was trying not to laugh as he read it aloud.

_Congratulations!_

_You have successfully reached your first destination! As a special reward, all members of your team will receive an Office Adventures desktop calendar and the opportunity to register at a special discounted rate for our exciting new workshop “U are what is missing in S_ccess.”_

_But this is only the first step of your journey and we, at Office Adventures, are excited to be part of it. Please refer to the enclosed envelope for your next clue._

“I think we should sign up, William,” she giggled. “Then we shall rule the Dispatch together as king and queen!”

“Hey!” Ronald shouted. “I was going to take that one and take over the Council. What about you, Undertaker? You interested?”

“Oh no!” he said gravely. “You must not tempt me away from my humble, chosen path. I will allow the rest of you to soar to the heights with Office Adventures.”

“I think I’ll inquire if they offer a workshop on dealing with impossible employees while I’m marking down all your overtime in my new Office Adventures calendar,” William said.

Grell leaned against the railing and laughed. William looked happier and more relaxed than she could ever recall. Maybe this business wasn’t as silly as she thought.

He opened the smaller envelope, read the sheet of paper quickly and began to walk. “This way,” he called.

“William! You haven’t even read it to the rest of us,” she complained.

“No need. I know exactly where we are going,” he said with a touch of smugness.

“At least let us see it,” she demanded.

With a great sigh, he handed it to her.

_In youth, on pinions strong, with comrades gay_  
_Through the light air he cut his winding way._  
_In lessening circles still the flock would rise_  
_Till clouds obscured them from our straining eyes._  
_When home returned fond claims his care await-_  
_The loving father and the faithful mate_  
_See him with ruffled plumes and courage bold_  
_His treasured nest against all comers hold;_  
_And when fierce wing-strokes had o’ercome his foes_  
_Triumphant “coos” of victory arose._

“Really,” she sniffed, “you needn’t act so superior. Even I could have solved that one.”

“Well, I haven’t a clue,” Ronald said. “Where are we going?”

They had turned away from Somerset House and were attempting to keep up with William as he practically raced along The Strand.

“The poem is about pigeons. We’re on our way to Trafalgar Square.”

“Oh do slow down a bit,” she grumbled, hurrying after him. “You’re not trying to win the Grand National. It’s a beautiful day. We should take out time and enjoy ourselves a bit.”

“But Senpai, don’t you want to win this thing?”

“I don’t really care,” she shrugged. “The prize is probably a year’s supply of staples.”

“Or an Office Adventures day planner,” Undertaker suggested.

“That is all very well for you to say,” William frowned. “If it wasn’t for you-”

“Stop it!” she shouted. “I keep telling you and telling you-”

The other three joined in. “It wasn’t your fault!”

XXXXXXXXXX

The words of the reports were beginning to swim. Propping her spectacles on the top of her head, Grell leaned back in her chair and allowed her eyes to close for a moment. Really! As if it were her fault she was so far behind on her paperwork. She had worked non-stop overtime for the past three weeks, but didn’t dare ask William for another day to finish her reports.

She took a swig of her cold coffee and pulled a face. Why did William insist on ordering such swill for the office? For one wild minute, she considered popping over to London and pounding on the door of the Phantomhive townhouse to beg Sebastian to brew her a decent cup. Or she could drop in on Undertaker, she thought with a smile. But he was a tea drinker.

She was beginning to drift... Images of a tiny cup of aromatic espresso filled her head... Accompanied by bitter almond biscuits. Lovely! Or a big bowl of milky café au lait and warm, buttery croissants. She almost groaned aloud and forced her eyes open. She rubbed the side of her head, picturing William’s reaction if he caught her dozing at her desk.

Angry shouts could be heard from the main office and Ronald’s voice above them all. “You bugger! Look what you’ve done!”

Glad for an excuse to abandon the pile of papers on her desk, she opened her door, to be confronted by chaos.

One of the secretaries was practically in tears over a smashed ink bottle on her desk. A spreading pool of black had engulfed most of the paper and was dripping onto the floor.

“I hope you’re happy!” she screeched. “That was everyone’s expense reports for the last month.”

“It was an accident,” stammered one of the newest additions to the Dispatch. Grell thought his name was Jeffrey, but had exchanged only a brief handshake and word with him on his arrival and had been far too busy since to make his acquaintance. “It slipped from my hand.” He caught up a wad of fabric, lying on an adjacent desk and tried to staunch the flow.

“That’s my jacket, you ass!” yelled another. “You’re paying for that!”

“Then don’t leave your things lying about on other people’s desks, Michael. Use the coatrack.”

“Grell took the coatrack.”

“I did not!” she shrieked. “I borrowed it last week for _one_ day when my coat was drenched and put it back.” She pointed across the office to the corner where it stood.

“It’s in the wrong spot. No wonder I didn’t see it.”

“It’s not my fault if you’re blind,” she shouted.

Ronald had tiptoed gingerly around the ink on the floor and was attempting to comfort the weeping secretary. “Don’t cry, Tina,” he said. “We’ll help you clean it up and I’ll take you for a drink afterwards.”

“Knox, you randy beast! Leave her alone,” Michael called out. “Trust you to try to take advantage.”

William’s door flew open. He stomped across the office, coming to a stop in the pool of ink. “What is going on out here?” he thundered and, glancing down at his feet, let out a colourful expletive.

Grell clamped her hand over her mouth to contain the laughter that threatened to spill out as a dozen voices assailed William from every side.

“Enough!” he shouted. “What is the matter with you people today? Knox, you and Jeffrey help Tina clean up her desk. Michael, find the mop and get started on the floor. And Grell,” he glared at her, “don’t just stand there laughing. Do - do _something_!” He slapped his hand onto the desk directly into the black puddle.

She ran to the break room and fetched a pile of cloths from the supply cupboard. Unable to control herself, she giggled helplessly as she passed one to William.

“Honestly!” he muttered, reaching up to adjust his glasses and leaving a black smear on his cheek.

“For pity’s sake, keep still,” she ordered, dabbing at his face. “You’re making things worse.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Jeffrey stuttered. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me today. I can barely see; I’m so tired.” He had succeeded in clearing off all of the ink-stained paper from the desk and was attempting to scrub away the black stains.

“Everyone is tired and out of sorts today,” Grell said. “The weather in London has been rotten for the past three weeks and we’re all worn out from that cholera outbreak.”

William’s stern expression softened slightly. “I understand, but that is no excuse for this office to descend into bedlam. Go clean yourselves up,” he said regarding his ink-stained subordinates, “and the rest of you, get back to work.” He turned on his heel and marched back to his office, leaving a trail of black footprints behind him.

XXXXXXXXXX

“Did you recognize the poem?” Grell asked while they passed the Savoy Theatre.

“Yes. It’s an Epitaph on a Favourite Tumbler Who Died Aged Twelve. It’s quite a moving piece.”

“If you say so, Boss,” Ronald snorted. “Who’d write a poem about a pigeon?”

“Why not? Pigeons are loyal, hardworking, reliable and brave. The ideal employee if you ask me.”

“Coo! Coo!” Ronald teased, running around in circles, flapping his arms.

She caught his arm and jerked him to her side. “That’s enough,” she muttered. “William never discusses things that mean anything to him. Don’t tease him.”

“Oh!” he said and sheepishly approached William. “I don’t know anything about them - except that they’re good in pies.”

“For your information, they were the first bird to be domesticated. They will find their way home from anywhere without stopping for food or drink.”

Grell grinned as he began to expound on the virtues of the pigeon. She wasn’t really sure if Ronald was paying attention, but to see William flushed and animated filled her with pleasure.

“You seem to be quite protective of your companions,” Undertaker said to her.

“I don’t know about that,” she shrugged. “Everyone in the office thinks that William’s fascination with pigeons is a great joke. It’s a shame. There’s very little outside of his work that gives him any joy. They shouldn’t tease him about it.”

“And young Ronald?”

“It was difficult for him when he came here. He barely passed the written exam. It wasn’t his fault; he grew up on these streets.”

“A regular Dickens urchin.”

“Very much so. He’s worked so hard to improve himself - to remove himself from the filth and muck he grew up in. I think that’s why he insists on those white shoes. They’re a symbol that he doesn’t have to scour through the mud to survive.”

“And you? Who watches out for you? Who defends you from hurtful jests and slurs?”

“Don’t be silly, dear,” she said. He had pushed back his hair to fix those extraordinary eyes on her face.

“But you don’t need a protector,” he said slowly. “You need an ally. Someone who cares about you, not in spite of what you are, but because of who you are. Someone who would love you because you are fierce and bold and outrageous.”

“Someone who doesn’t exist.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that, my dear.”

She was drowning in those luminous green eyes, mesmerized by his quiet voice, powerless under the intensity of his gaze.

“Grell! Undertaker!” Ronald called. “Are you two going to stand there staring at each other all day?”

“Gracious!” she exclaimed. They were standing in front of the great equestrian statue of Charles I. “We’ve arrived.”

They crossed over to the square itself to stand by the enormous lions that guarded the massive column towering over them.

“What now?” she asked. “What do you suppose we are looking for?” She impatiently shooed away a pigeon that attempted to land on her head.

“Watch it, Senpai. He might be trying to build a nest.” The bird perched on Ronald’s head and began to peck at his scalp. “Ouch!” he shouted. “Get away!”

“Persistent fellow, isn’t he?” Undertaker chuckled as the bird flew over to William and settled on his shoe.

“Quite,” he said, stooping slightly and extending his arm.

The pigeon hopped fearlessly onto William’s hand and began to walk along his arm.

“I think I might have found what we are looking for,” he said, unfastening a tiny capsule from the bird’s leg.

He opened it to reveal a scrap of paper printed with a small circle as the pigeon flew away. “Grell, the stamp, please.”

A white envelope floated down into his outstretched hand.

“Those Office Adventures fellows are pretty good,” Ronald said admiringly.

“You might change your opinion when you hear this,” William said with a faint smile.

_Well done!_

_You have achieved your second destination. We, at Office Adventures, believe that success should be rewarded. Members of your team will each receive a personalized Office Adventures ever-sharp pencil, so you are never at a loss to make your point!_

They groaned collectively.

_Furthermore, you have qualified for our rock-bottom rate for our workshop on Personal Branding!_

“That sounds rather painful,” Grell interrupted.

_Learn how to make yourself stand out and announce your special skills to the world and make others want them!_

“What do you think, darling?” she said to Undertaker. “We should put your face on the side of a bus with a slogan reading ‘Undertaker: People are dying to meet him!’”

“Or how about ‘Undertaker: To call someone else is a grave mistake!’” William added.

“Or ‘Undertaker: He puts the fun in funerals!’” said Ronald.

“I prefer ‘I’ll always let you down at the end.’”

Still giggling, Grell opened the smaller envelope.

_London’s burning, London’s burning_  
_Fetch the engine, fetch the engine_

She began to hum under her breath as Ronald sat on the steps before Nelson’s Column, staring into the distance. William had purchased a packet of seed and was contentedly feeding the pigeons.

“You know the answer, don’t you?” Undertaker stated.

“Yes and I’m sure William does too, but I think Ronald needs to solve this clue.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Haven’t you noticed? The clues seem to be tailored to each of us. The girl with auburn tresses in the first and pigeons for William. Ronnie didn’t have a hope of solving either of those. How could he? As I said, he had almost no schooling. But this is a children’s song. I’m sure he must have heard it at some point. This one was chosen specially for him.” She watched the younger man. His brow was furrowed and he was muttering the words quietly. “Isn’t the purpose of today’s exercise to work as a team? That means giving every member a chance to contribute.”

Undertaker shooed away a pigeon that was threatening to fly off with his hat. “You really don’t care if we win, do you?”

“No, I don’t. I’m having a wonderful time - out on a beautiful day with William and Ronnie - and you. No death, no pain. Just friends and laughter.”

“Friends? Ronald, I understand, but would you consider William a friend?”

“Actually, yes. I know,” she added impatiently, “I was hopelessly in love with him for years, but that faded away a while ago.”

He pushed away an errant strand of hair that had blown over her forehead. “How long ago?”

“Around the time I woke up in a coffin.” She could feel the heat rising in her face and lifted his fringe to stare into his eyes. “Did you think I had developed a sudden fancy for bone-shaped biscuits these past months?”

“Boss! They’re doing it again!” Ronald shouted. “You two can moon over each other all you like after we win this thing. While you were feeding the birds, _I_ solved the clue!” He began to sing, “London’s burning, London’s burning. Fetch the engine, fetch the engine. Fire, fire! Fire, fire! Pour on water, pour on water. It’s an old song about the Great Fire.”

“Well done, Ronald,” William said admiringly.

Grell repressed a grin; William really was a dreadful actor, but there was no denying the glimmer of approval in his expression.

“Gosh, you’re thick! The Monument to the Great Fire of London! That’s our next stop!” Suddenly, his grin disappeared. “Drat! We’re going to have to go all the way to London Bridge.”

“Oh don’t fuss,” she scolded him. “It’s not that far. Only a couple of miles.”

“Back to the Embankment,” Undertaker chuckled. “We are getting our exercise today.”

“Couldn’t we take a cab?” Ronald asked.

“Of course not!” William said. “The walk will do you good.”

“But I’m getting hungry.”

“Yes,” Grell put in, “and I’m terribly thirsty. We’re not far from The Savoy. Couldn’t we stop for one of their lovely teas?”

“Don’t be ridiculous! Management didn’t arrange all this for you to sit about, eating crumpets.” He strode back in the direction of the Charles I statue.

Scrambling after him, she said, loud enough to be heard, “You know William’s terribly worried that he’s putting on weight. He spends so much time in the office these days. That’s why he’s making us walk and won’t stop for tea.”

He came to a dead stop in the middle of Northumberland Avenue. “I most certainly am not!” he sputtered. “I have no objection to stopping for a moment. I simply see no purpose in going out of our way and wasting time.” He cast an uneasy glance down at his waistline.

“Oh darling,” she giggled. “I’m teasing you. You haven’t changed since the day we met.”

“And neither have you,” he muttered, shaking his head.

Falling into step with him as they passed the Royal Avenue Theatre, she spoke more quietly. “In fact, you have changed, dear.” She glanced behind her at Ronald, chattering with Undertaker. “That was very sweet of you earlier, to allow Ronald to solve this clue on his own. I don’t say it often, but you are a fine Supervisor.”

He cleared his throat and adjusted his spectacles. “Quite, but it was no more generous than your own actions. Ronald was questionable when he joined the Dispatch, you know. You did an excellent job bringing him along.” He ventured a look over his shoulder. “You seem to be quite - friendly with Undertaker these days.”

“Relieved?’ she asked, lifting an eyebrow.

He began to walk faster and fixed his gaze on the ground. “Truly, yes. I can’t pretend to understand, um -how you are, but it doesn’t mean I don’t want you to be happy. Can he make you happy?”

Grell stole a look at him. The genuine concern and even affection she saw made her swallow hard. “Perhaps,” she said softly.

They walked in silence through the Victoria Embankment Gardens until Ronald called out, “Hey! There’s a café here. Can we stop for a minute?”

“Very well,” William said. “I hope you’re not expecting me to pay.”

“I don’t deal in the Queen’s currency,” Undertaker grinned. “Haven’t a penny on me.”

“Sorry, Boss, I’m skint.”

“Honestly!” he snorted, reaching into his pocket.

Refreshed by tea and sandwiches, they set out again, following the river past King’s College and the Middle and Inner Temple Gardens. “Young Ronald seems worried we might have to climb The Monument,” Undertaker told Grell. “I will confess I’m not eager to climb over 300 steps, but he was quite concerned. He can’t be afraid of heights.”

“Oh dear,” she replied. “He’s not, of course. He couldn’t do the job, otherwise, but...” She paused and smoothed the fingers of her gloves down her hands. “Ronnie was a jumper.”

“I see.”

“He’s never said if it was The Monument, but, sometimes, we’ll be up high over the city and he’ll get quite pensive.”

They had reached Blackfriars Bridge and the Temperance statue and water fountain.

“A highly overestimated virtue in my opinion,” Undertaker said to her. “I was hoping I might tempt you back to my shop later for something a little stronger than a cup of tea.”

“Planning to take advantage of a lady, are you?” she giggled. “Don’t forget we have to return to the Dispatch when this is done.”

“Ah yes! For more fun and games, if I remember correctly.”

She tucked her hand around his arm and reached up to whisper in his ear, “But the fun and games could continue, perhaps.”

William and Ronald were glaring at them. “Honestly, you two! Come along! We’re nearly there. “Ronald, walk with Grell. Keep those two from dilly-dallying along.” He set a brisk pace along Upper Thames Street. Ronald fell in beside her while Undertaker strolled behind.

She noticed that his usually cheerful expression had faded. He was biting his lip, looking as if he wasn’t sure whether to speak and tried to divert him. “If our next clue sends us back to Westminster, I’ll be very annoyed.” As Ronald remained silent, she finally spoke. “Ronnie,” she asked gently, “was it The Monument?”

He nodded. “It’s silly, I know. I pass by it often enough, but I haven’t been right there. Not since...”

She thought quickly about collections she and Ronald had made and realized they had never collected together in that area. “William was protecting you,” she said softly. “It’s hard to return to that place, but we have to eventually. And you won’t be alone. Not like before. You’re with people who care about you.”

“Gosh Senpai! I didn’t think about it like that. It shouldn’t be so bad then.”

“No dear,” she said, squeezing his arm.

“And I know you and William already knew the answer before I came up with it.”

“How about saying that we wanted to give you a chance to think of it for yourself? Which you did in only a few minutes.”

“That’s right! I did. I guess I’m not a dumb as I thought.”

“Stop that!” she ordered. They were at the foot of London Bridge, only moments from their destination. “You’re very clever. William agrees that you’re one of the best reapers in the Dispatch today.”

“Really?” He glowed with pleasure. “I’m glad I was put on your team today. It wouldn’t have been any fun with anyone else. Even William’s enjoying himself.”

“I know,” she grinned, “but he’d die before admitting it. I’m glad we’re all on the same team, too. You, me and William.”

“What about Undertaker?” he asked, elbowing her playfully. “I saw the way you two were looking at each other. You’re going to set London ablaze again if you keep it up. Whew!” He wiped his brow.

“Oh to be consumed by the flames of love!” she cried, hugging herself dramatically.

“Grell, stop it!” William hissed. “People are staring.”

“I was just trying to keep Ronnie’s spirits up,” she whispered. “Look.”

The young man was staring, not at the great Christopher Wren structure that towered over them, but at a spot on the ground. She hurried to his side and took his arm. “Come on, dear. Let’s start looking.”

They walked slowly around, coming to a stop before the bas relief sculpture showing the destruction of the City as the King and his brother laboured to save it. “Were you there?” she asked Undertaker.

“Yes. There were only a few recorded deaths, but many that went unnoticed. Those were hard times for the Dispatch. We had collected without rest for months during the plague of the previous year. Many souls were lost; many agents were lost. The pestilence and misery brought demons to London in quantities you couldn’t imagine. I lost some good companions during those days.”

“You’ve been around forever, haven’t you?” Ronald asked.

“Not quite,” he smiled, “although it feels like it sometimes.”

Suddenly, Ronald came to a stop. “There it is!” he exclaimed, pointing at one of the paving stones.

Scrawled in chalk were the words “London’s burning, London’s burning,” with a circle drawn below.

“Perhaps you’d care to do the honours,” William said, handing him the stamp.

He knelt and pressed it onto the pavement. A slight breeze blew the letters away as the familiar envelope floated down to him.

Taking it from him William began to read.

_You are thirsty for success! In recognition of this, we, at Office Adventures, are proud to award each member of your team with an Office Adventures flask as well as a special two for the price of one offer on our exciting workshops: Creating Corporate Synergy_

“I have no idea what that means,” he said.

_and Burying the Competition Alive!_

“Oh darling! You simply must sign up for that one!” Grell squealed to Undertaker.

_Your journey is almost complete. Please refer to the enclosed envelope for your final clue._

William smiled faintly and handed the sheet of paper to Undertaker. “I think this is meant for you.”

_Death be not proud, though some have called thee_  
_Mighty and dreadful..._

“I would never call you anything like that, darling.”

“Stop flirting, Grell!”

Undertaker pushed his hair back to gaze up at the great Doric column, topped by a copper urn of fire. “I know where we should be going. It’s quite clever, actually. Think about it. Who was the victor of Waterloo?”

“The Duke of Wellington,” Grell said.

“And who won the Battle of Trafalgar.”

“Lord Nelson!” Ronald exclaimed. “Even I know that.”

“And Christopher Wren designed The Monument,” Undertaker added.

“What about this clue?” William asked.

“It’s John Donne,” he replied. “Nelson and Wellington are buried at St Paul’s Cathedral.”

“Which was also designed by Wren,” said William. “He’s buried there, too.”

“Donne was buried in the Old Cathedral that was destroyed in the Fire. His monument was one of the very few to survive the blaze,” Undertaker said. “That is our final destination.”

“And it’s not far, thank heavens,” Grell put in. “Not that I haven’t enjoyed our stroll about London, but my feet are beginning to hurt.”

“You will insist on wearing those shoes,” William pointed out. “You have no one to blame, but yourself and if it weren’t for you-”

Grell put her nose in the air and ignored him. It _wasn’t_ her fault.

XXXXXXXXXX

Would this day never end? She glanced at her watch again. The very walls of her office seemed to be closing in on her. Her head ached, her eyes were scratchy and she felt as if a hundred tiny devils had taken up residence in her skull, plucking at her eyeballs with fiery pincers.

A bad-tempered clerk had tossed a packet onto her desk and slammed the door behind him when he left. Wearily, she sorted through it. A reminder from Spectacles that she was overdue for her annual eye exam - maybe that could explain her headache and lethargy. An advertising flyer, she shoved away impatiently. Really! There were some of the most extraordinary businesses out there these days. As if she needed adventure in the office! And what on earth was thinking outside of the box?

Adventure outside of the office - now, that was an entirely different matter, she grinned while she opened an envelope containing a black lace handkerchief, tied about with a red ribbon. Pulling the ribbon, it fell open to reveal three bone-shaped biscuits. She giggled to herself and nibbled one thoughtfully. Just you wait, my silver-haired beauty! She sighed voluptuously and allowed herself to contemplate her next visit - if she ever got more than a snatched moment between collections.

A tap on her door roused her from her thoughts. One of the evening shift hovered anxiously. At least he wasn’t scowling like everyone out there.

“Agent Sutcliff, I’m sorry to bother you. There’s no coffee in the cupboard and the pot’s empty. I tried William’s door, but he just shouted for me to go away.”

She rubbed her temples. “They delivered a new box yesterday. Check the under the sink in the break room.”

“All right. Thank you.”

Grateful she couldn’t be blamed for emptying the pot this time, she turned to the last report on her desk. The gloom and surliness of the outer office were almost palpable. She could practically feel it pressing against her door and seeping under the crack like a poisonous mist.

Someone else was at the door. Ronald slouched in and flung himself grumpily into the chair opposite her desk.

“I got ink on my shoes,” he said in disgust.

She reached into her bottom drawer and produced a small tin. “Try this. It’s saddle soap. It does wonders on mine,” she said, stretching out her legs to admire her red and black shoes.

“Thanks Senpai,” he grinned. “You and I are the only ones with any style in this whole place. Gosh! Everyone is grouchy today. I’ve got a awful headache and so does almost everyone else. There’s some beginning to say there’s an epidemic going around the office.”

“That’s ridiculous! We don’t get sick!”

“That’s what William said when Michael asked if he could go to the Infirmary. Told him if he didn’t get back to work, he’d _wish_ he had cholera.”

Her door flew open. Michael and several others stood at the threshold, panting with rage.

“Grell! You utter cow! You - you-”

She sprang from her chair and shoved him hard. Looming over his figure, sprawled on the floor, she shrieked, “I would consider very carefully what you say next. They might be your final words!”

“Is this your idea of a joke?” shouted another voice.

“You rotten bitch!”

She flew at the one nearest, wrapping her hands around his throat. “What did you just call me?” she screeched.

They fell to the floor. Grell easily pinned him to the ground, her knees resting on his elbows and drew her arm back. Ronald tried to grab hold of her, but she flung him away without effort, just as William’s door opened.

“Are you all possessed?” he shouted at the top of his voice. He pulled Grell up by her hair. “What is the meaning of this?”

Voices from every side assaulted him. “It’s all Grell’s fault!”

And that was when the Branch Manager and two Council members walked into the office.

XXXXXXXXXX

Ronald was staring at the observation deck near the top of The Monument. “It’s an awful long way, isn’t it?”

“It is, dear. What if you and I come back here some time? We can climb it together. You can spend as long as want up there. Until you’re ready to come down.”

“Would you, Senpai? Really?”

She nodded. “If you would like to.”

“I think I would. I think it would - help.”

“I made my own journey shortly after the Ripper,” she said quietly. “It does help.”

William, she noticed, was being uncharacteristically patient, standing aside to let Ronald deal with his emotions at being confronted by the place. Had he ever made a similar pilgrimage?

“Come on!” the younger reaper called out. “Let’s go pay a visit to this John Donne fellow!” He set out towards Cannon Street. “Undertaker’s awfully clever, isn’t he?” he said to her. “Fancy him putting all of that together.”

“He’s been around for a very long time. I can’t imagine there’s much he doesn’t know.”

“Does he know how you feel about him?”

She was grateful that the church bells of London all began to peal, saving her from answering immediately. Why did she feel like a blushing schoolgirl? “He will,” she grinned.

“Good.”

It was a short walk. Soon they were standing in the shadow of the statue of Queen Anne before the great west door of the Cathedral. Undertaker scrutinized the Classical portico and double Corinthian columns. “I saw the original burn. I was there when it was finally consumed by the flames.”

“And you saw the new Cathedral rise,” Grell said.

“I did. Like a phoenix. I have seen much destruction and death, but London, somehow, always rises from the ashes.”

“Quite,” William said. “Perhaps we could save the philosophical discussion for later.”

They followed him into the massive nave. Their footsteps echoed on the black and white tiles past the imposing arches and monument to the Duke of Wellington until they stood beneath the soaring dome.

“We should go up into the Whispering Gallery and play that game,” she said. “You know, the one where one person whispers something and the next has to repeat it.”

“Now Grell,” William retorted, “you know we’ve been promised fun and games back at the Dispatch. Surely, you can be patient.”

Was he smiling? She couldn’t tell, but she couldn’t repress a shiver when Undertaker whispered to her, “And didn’t you promise me _more_ fun and games later?”

“That’s a very improper comment to make in a church,” she whispered back, trying to restrain her laughter.

“I think the Reverend Donne is currently residing in the South Quire,” Undertaker said, leading the way.

They passed the pulpit and drew level with the statue, in its niche.

“He’s wrapped in a sheet!” Ronald said.

“His shroud,” Undertaker murmured. His fingernail traced the scorch marks from the Great Fire, still visible on the stone, stopping at a tiny dark circle. He held out his hand for the stamp.

“I would suggest that we read the contents of the envelope outside,” William said. “It doesn’t seem suitable to learn what further delights Office Adventures has in store for us in here.”

They made their way to the churchyard and stood beneath the sheltering branches of a tree.

Undertaker began to read:

_Congratulations!_

_You have completed your journey! You have shown yourselves to be trailblazers and we, at Office Adventures, recognize that by awarding each member of your team an Office Adventures flashlight so that you may continue to be beacons of inspiration to the rest of your co-workers._

Grell glanced at William. She was sure he was trying not to laugh. “I sincerely hope that I win an Office Adventures carry-all in the raffle tonight,” he said. “How else will I get all of my wonderful Office Adventures gifts and prizes home?”

_Furthermore, you are offered, at no cost (except travel, accommodation, taxes, gratuities and a small surcharge), a place in our newest exciting workshop: Sharpening Your Leadership Skills. Learn to hone your abilities to deadly efficiency!_

And with that, William lost all control of himself, whooping with laughter until he began to choke while Ronald thumped him on the back. Undertaker was bent double as tears of mirth streamed down his face.

“I don’t see what’s so funny about that,” Grell sniffed, but joined in the laughter until she was breathless.

Finally, they regained control of themselves. “I guess we should head back to the Dispatch,” Ronald said. “Seems a pity.”

“No need to hurry,” Undertaker said. “It’s still only mid-afternoon. We progressed through the clues quite quickly.”

“Well,” William said slowly, “there were no instructions to report back immediately. I suppose we could find a pub and have a drink.”

“Wonderful!” she exclaimed. “First round’s on me!”

“And so it should be. After all, it was all your fault.”

XXXXXXXXXX

They stumbled back to the Dispatch several hours later, slightly tipsy and flushed with drink and laughter.

A representative of Office Adventures hustled them into the room. “Where have you been? Everyone is waiting for you. You won, you know.”

“But we are already winners,” Ronald said with mock gravity.

“Beacons of inspiration,” Undertaker snorted.

Grell began to giggle. “Thirsty for success and if you don’t let me get over to the bar, I’ll be putting the U in murder.”

“Good one, Grell,” William snickered. “Excuse me for a minute. I have to get rid of the P from pint.”

“Well done,” she laughed.

They allowed him to escort them to a table in the centre of the room where William rejoined them. The Branch Manager took a seat at their table. “Congratulations! You did very well. Finished more than an hour before any other team. I was your observer and I must say I haven’t enjoyed myself so much in years.”

Undertaker squinted at him. “Well hello, Tom! I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“Don’t call me that,” he muttered, beating a hasty retreat.

“Good heavens, darling! What was that all about?”

Taking a large swallow of his drink, he answered her. “His name’s Howard, but he got caught peeping into the Ladies’ Room when he was a trainee. They called him Tom until he graduated.”

“You must know the best stories about all of Senior Management,” Ronald said.

Grell leaned forward. “Do tell!”

“You see that stuffy looking fellow from the Council over there?” He pointed unsteadily. “Back when he was new, he tried to open a portal and landed in a dung heap. My word, did he reek! We called him Stinky for months.”

“It’s very disrespectful to repeat such tales about Senior Management and the Council,” William said. “I’m going to call over the representative from Office Adventures and see if he doesn’t have a suitable workshop for you.”

Undertaker clamped his mouth shut and wandered over to the bar. Ronald went table-hopping to flirt with all the secretaries. She was alone with William.

“Did you enjoy yourself today?”

“I did,” he replied. “It brought back memories of our final exam - you and I, in London together.”

“It seems like a long time ago. I’m glad we were together today.”

“So am I.”

They sat in companionable silence, watching the rest, exchanging grins when others passed them, grumbling about the difficulty of their clues, until Ronald and Undertaker rejoined them.

“It’s not fair,” she heard someone complain as he passed their table, “that they won. After all, it was all Grell’s fault.”

“My dear,” Undertaker said. “I’m mystified. Everyone keeps referring to some incident, claiming that this entire day is, somehow, your fault. I did hear talk of some sort of brawl in the office. What happened?”

“I still think William is the one to blame,” she said sulkily. “It’s his job to order the office supplies.”

“The entire business could have been avoided if you had been paying attention.”

She slapped her hand on the table. “I was tired; I hadn’t had a day off in months and I’d worked overtime for weeks. It wasn’t my fault.”

XXXXXXXXXX

It was very early when she arrived at the office. The night shift were trickling in from their scheduled collections and none of the day shift had arrived yet. Grell scowled at the empty coffee pot in the break room and, with an exaggerated sigh, emptied out the filter basket and filled the machine with fresh water. An empty coffee can rested in the trash, but there was one left at the very back of the cupboard. It was half-empty, but enough for another few pots, she decided. The new box, under the sink, was wrapped in packing tape and she was in no mood to spoil her nails while wrestling with it. Someone else could restock the cupboard.

Blearily, she pulled down the can and spooned it out. How long could it take for one pot to brew, she wondered, tapping her nails impatiently on the counter. She’d had almost no sleep for the past week and none the night before, deciding to come to the office as soon as her overtime was done to finish her paperwork. Draining the mug with several large swallows, she refilled it and wiped the counter top.

Finally, she could get to work. Feeling quite virtuous, she closed the cupboard, not noticing the label on the can that read, “New, Improved Flavour! Great Coffee Taste Without the Caffeine!”

XXXXXXXXXX

“Do you mean to say that all that fuss was caused by you making decaffeinated coffee?”

“Yes. I’m still convinced it was William’s fault. Why on earth would he order such a thing?”

“ _I_ didn’t order it!” he insisted. “That tin has been the cupboard since we were in training. It’s probably been there since Undertaker was in training. Honestly! As if I would order such a thing!”

“Makes me glad I’m a tea drinker.”

“So, the rest of the day shift showed up,” she continued, “and, by the time I went for more, the pot was nearly empty. I made a fresh pot from the same can. Nobody realized until the fellow from the evening shift came in and then all hell broke loose.”

“And the lack of caffeine sent the whole Dispatch on the rampage?”

“It did,” William said. “It was like having an office populated entirely by Grells.”

“Be quiet,” she hissed. “The Branch Manager has started speaking.”

“Good evening, all,” he said. “I hope you all enjoyed your day. First, I would like to thank Office Adventures for their hard work in organizing this event. Everybody...”

There followed a spattering of applause.

“Next, I would like everyone to join me in congratulating our winners - the team of William T. Spears, Grell Sutcliff, Ronald Knox and Undertaker!”

All heads turned to their table, but Grell and Undertaker’s seats were empty.

XXXXXXXXXX

The sun was high when Grell woke the following morning to the delicious knowledge that she was not alone.

“What are you reading, darling?”

“That catalogue that the Office Adventures representative insisted on shoving at us as we left.”

Fumbling for her spectacles, she peered over his shoulder. “Office Adventures golf balls and tees,” she read aloud. “Perhaps we should order some and organize a tournament for the Dispatch. I can just picture you on the links.”

“Or Office Adventures high visibility rain ponchos. Just the thing for collecting in London.”

She snatched the catalogue and nestled against him, leafing through the pages. “‘A Culinary Corporate Retreat - Master a New Cuisine with your Co-Workers.’ That could be fun, but, for some reason, the rest of the office don’t trust me with sharp objects.”

“Look at this!” he read. “‘Live Like the Nobility. A Luxury Retreat in a Stately Home with your own Personal Butler.’” He squinted at the accompanying picture. “That house looks rather familiar.”

“It does.” Grell read the fine print on the final page and started to laugh. “‘Office Adventures - A Division of the Funtom Corporation.’ You don’t think...”

“He would have to if Ciel ordered him.”

“I am definitely signing us up for that one. William and Ronald, too. Can you picture William ordering Sebastian to make his tea?” she laughed.

Undertaker tossed the catalogue aside and pinned her to the bed. “And I think you’d enjoy making Sebastian wait on you hand and foot, bring your meals and draw your bath.”

She wound her arms around his neck. “But only you can wash my back,” she murmured.

“You know,” she said a while later as she traced his scars with her fingertips, “we never did find out what our prize was.”

“Actually, my dear, I had a chat with the man from Office Adventures while I was at the bar. Would you care to guess?”

“A lifetime’s supply of deluxe paperclips? A free workshop called You are the Captain of your Leadership?”

“Try again.”

“A giant economy-size box of rubber bands? I give up.”

“A state of the art brewing machine and year’s supply of gourmet coffee.”

She began to sputter with laughter. “What a waste! I swore off coffee after that day at the office and you never drink it.”

“Maybe so, but I think our day’s effort was well-rewarded.”

“So do I, darling.” Grell pulled his head down to hers to claim her prize. “So do I.”


End file.
